


Better Luck Next Time

by DittyWrites



Series: Birds of Gay (2020) [1]
Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Companionable Snark, Drabble Collection, F/F, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slice of Life, Threats of Violence, Will update as new drabbles are added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22630072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: A collection of any Birds of Prey (2020) drabbles which i write. Warning and tags will be updated as I add to the collection but nsfw is very likely at some point. So yeah.
Relationships: Birds of Prey (OT3), Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Series: Birds of Gay (2020) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629667
Comments: 34
Kudos: 312





	1. Roman/Zsasz - Drive

**Author's Note:**

> All drabbles are originally posted over on acapelladitty.tumblr.com
> 
> These are my first attempts at writing pretty much all of these characters (aside from Black Mask who i have included in a small role in a few fics, mostly so Selina Kyle can attempt to beat the shite outta him) so be lenient with me as i work to find their character voices lmao xx

“You’re a stupid bastard! You know that?!”

Zsasz fought a wince as Roman's voice continued to screech into his ear even as he wrenched the car door open and allowed Zsasz to slide himself onto the plush upholstery within. Tactfully ignoring the burst of pain which the action sent through his side, and also ignoring the intense bleeding which was accompanying it, he pushed his hand against his wound to stem the bleeding as Roman continue to shout at him.

“I mean, how hard is it to dodge a fucking bullet?” Hands flapping, the whites of Roman's knuckles could be seen as he gripped at the roof of the car 

“It’s not easy when they’re firing out a MAC-10, boss.” Zsasz protested calmly as Roman growled and slammed a fist against the passengers side door.

“How many?”

“Just one. Caught me in the side. I’ll live but I need to get it stitched up quickly or I’m gonna end up fucked.”

“Not as fucked as they’re gonna be when I get my hands on them. I’ll cut them to pieces and feed them to their owner. They think they can fuck with me?! Fuck with you?!" Spinning in place, the bottom of Romans' suit flared out and Zsasz caught sight of his own blood staining the fabric. "That’s fucking with me! Everyone knows that!”

The wildness of Romans’ hair was matched by the ferocity of his expression, his teeth baring in rage as his top lieutenant and confidant bled out beneath him. The raw rage, undercut with sadistic promise was beautiful and it was in moments like these that a rare flicker of _something,_ a something Zsasz had never been able to put a name to, lit within him and only Roman seemed able to provide it.

He would follow Roman to get the gates of hell, just for that flicker.

Whipping his phone from his pocket, Roman smashed in a quick number and waited for the response.

“Donny, get that goddamn bitch of a doctor from the Narrows down to the warehouse on fifth and tell her to be prepared to see a patient within the next ten minutes. Tell her if she isn’t waiting for me to arrive, I’ll have her entire family gutted and fed to that fat, fucking dog she has.”

As Roman hung up and slid the phone back into his suit pocket, Zsasz realised there was another problem facing them.

“Boss, I can’t drive like this,” keeping pressure on his wound, Zsasz pulled the car keys from his inner pocket and reached out to drop them into Romans’ hand, “you need to tell Donny to send someone dow-”

“Fuck waiting,” Roman hissed, snatching the keys in his closed fist, “ill do it myself.”

“You don-”

“You think I’m fucking stupid? I know how to drive and I am not, ” leaning back into the car, Roman placed his hand atop Zsasz’s own before pressing down roughly, drawing a grunt from Zsasz as the pain blossomed for a moment, before drawing it up between them to show his fingers glistening with fresh blood, “fucking waiting.”

Zsasz did not have the opportunity to answer that as Roman withdrew from the car and slipped around to the drivers side, wiping his bloody hand on the lapel of his off-white suit, staining it further.

“Die on me and I’ll fucking have you skinned.” Roman grunted out over his shoulder, throwing the car into gear and, as the tyres squealed to life, Zsasz braced his body against the car door to prepare himself for a wild ride ahead.

The shock coursing through his system would be far too easy to blame on the slug embedded in his side but the pain and blood loss was hardly anything new to him.

He barely felt it.

No, the shock originated from a different source because in all the years he had worked for Roman Sionis, through gang wars and assassinations to running businesses and even grocery shopping, he had never witnessed Roman take position behind the wheel. That was a job for disposable goons and lackeys, or so he said.

Roman drove for no one.

But he would drive for him.


	2. Birds of Prey - Team

Consciousness came slowly to Helena as the fog within her mind receded and she could pick up soft voices speaking somewhere in the space over her body. Through the fabric on her back, she could feel that she was lying against cold stone and that her hands and feet were unbound. Years of training allowed her natural instincts to kick in as she continued to feign unconsciousness to work out her predicament. Her memory was vague but she remembered catching sight of a metal pipe as it entered her peripheral vision and, presumably, knocked her clean out.

A hand made itself known on her head and it took all her energy not to flinch as the hand brushed against her injured temple, the wetness there indicating that she was bleeding, and pushed against it slightly. Gathering her wits, she tensed her body imperceptible in preparation to fight but the hand instantly slipped from her temple and moved backwards to to card softly through her short hair.

Cracking her eye open slightly, her gaze was met by a pair of familiar, warm brown eyes.

“Hey, cool girl. Nice to see you awake.”

“Canary,” Helena opened both eyes and immediately narrowed them again as the lighting within the room caused a flash of pain inside her head, “what happened?”

“You took a pipe to the head,” another voice interrupted from her other side, “it was a helluva swing.”

“Renee,” Dinah indicated the ex-detextive with a quick head tilt as she let go of Helenas’ hair and picked up a small piece of clean cloth to place over the still-bleeding head injury, “saw you drop and we had to quickly get rid of the guy to get you out. The rest of the assholes escaped though.”

“Canary here about knocked the guys fucking block off.” Renee added in, looking far too pleased for her own good. “It wasn’t easy hauling your skinny ass out of there so we decided to hole up here in this room to make sure you were safe.”

“Safe.” Helena repeated, feeling a strange warmth in her chest as she surveyed the two women who were watching her with veiled concern. “Uhh, thanks? But you should have stopped those guys first, they probably have that gun shipment by n-”

“No man left behind.” Renee cut her off, pausing to take a swig from the small flask she kept on her belt. “Or woman.”

“We Birds of Prey gotta stick together, Huntress. Or what’s the point of being a team?” Dinah asked, standing up from her position at Helena’s side and stretching the muscles of her back as she adjusted her costume.

The nuances of working within a team were still too fresh for Helena to fully understand at times but as she found herself being helped gently to her feet by both Dinah and Renee, she had to admit that she was fully willing to take the time to learn.


	3. Roman/Zsasz - Help Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Zsasz have a short discussion about their fellow rogues.

“I hate having to pull in outside work.” The lull in conversation was broken by the slight whine within Romans’ tone as he once again complained about their predicament. “Everyone else is so,” he paused to take a sip of his drink, “shit.”

“Agreed, boss,” Victor nodded, settling his elbows on his knees as he sat in his chair across from Romans’ lounging position, “but we still need to pick someone.”

“Ugh. Where did we get to on the list?” Turning his body fully as he lay propped up against his chaise-lounge, he gave Victor his attention once again.

Victor glanced down at the list.

“Cobblepot?”

“I’m not asking that fucking fat fuck,” Roman snarled, his face twisting unpleasantly as his hand clenched around his glass, “he has too many dealings with my father.”

“Nygma?” Victor quickly interjected, moving on to prevent Roman from dwelling too long on the thoughts of his family. It never ended well and there was too much to be done at the moment to indulge in some fun. It was best saved for later when both men could at least enjoy it. “He’s been spotted near the South side.”

Somehow, Romans’ face twisted even further at the mention of the narcissistic genius.

“I’d rather drink piss off the street.”

Victor snorted.

Nygmas’ ego and theatrics did not play well with Roman.

“Crane?” Victor suggested. “He works well alone and it would only cost us a few men for his fear experiment shit.”

Crane was a risky gambit. He held no loyalty to anyone but himself. However, one bonus which Victor had discovered in an altercation with the scientist many years ago was that his toxin didn’t seem to affect him to badly. Victor didn’t often experience fear.

He didn’t often experience anything.

Roman hummed, swiping his finger along the plush velvet fabric of his seat as he considered the possibility.

“Hmm…maybe. Leave him on the list. If he tries any of his fucking oddball shit then you can just y’know-” Drawing his hand across his throat in a sharp gesture, Romans’ intent was clear.

Grinning at the thought of putting down such a dangerous foe, Victors’ metal teeth flashed in the low lighting of the room.

“Dent?” He asked.

“Took a shot at me last time we had an altercation on the docks. Fuck that guy. Wish I could burn the other half of him.”

“Freeze?”

Roman scowled.

“Very unpredictable and we’ll lose more men to his gun than Cranes’ fear shit. Plus, I can’t stand the fucking chill when he’s in the room.” Romans’ knuckles brushed the underside of his jaw almost subconsciously as he tilted his head towards Victor, a few strands of his hair falling across his forehead. “It’s bad for my skin.”

Indulging Roman with a nod, knowing the pride he took in his appearance, Victor crossed the name off the list.

“So, Crane then? Want me to organise the meet?”

“Sure. Get on it!” Shooing Victor away with fluttering fingers and a wicked smirk, Roman looked happier than he had all day and Victor bit back a smile. “And let him know that if he so much as looks at me while holding that shit he makes, i’ll have him strung up, gutted, and fed to rats.”

“Fed to rats, boss.” As he stood, Victor fixed his shirt and checked to make sure that his hidden blade was still safe. “Understood.”

As Victor fixed himself, Romans’ smirk developed into a full-blown grin as the assassin stood to his full height and the dangerous aura which surrounded him seemed to fill the space. It was beautiful enough to allow Roman to ignore the tacky shirt which Victor had chosen as he gave his right hand a salacious wink.

“Gorgeous as always, Mr Zsasz.” Roman purred. “Don’t let me down.”


	4. Roman/Zsasz - Spa Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun for the whole family lmao.

As much as there were many benefits to being the designated right hand of Roman Sionis, there were also some considerable trials which had to be faced; such as the monthly spa trip Roman insisted on to indulge in the monthly treatments which he was unable to have conducted within his penthouse above the club.

Victor, understandably, hated it.

Every month, without fail, Roman would have him pack an away bag for the both of them before leaving the running of the club to the goons as he had them driven out to the secluded health retreat. The goons were always left with enough warnings and threats of violence that no problems ever seemed to arise, and if they did, then they were never brought to either Romans’ or his own attention.

Currently up to his neck in a mud bath, the brown sludge bubbling gently as it was maintained at a set temperature, the slight lines on Romans’ face which he had yet to have botoxed away were fully relaxed and his eyes were glazed over with contentment.

“The finer things, Mr. Zsasz.” Eyes drawn to the ceiling, Roman blinked slowly. “We always need time to appreciate the finer things.”

His back ramrod straight as he sat on the marble bench next to the mud bath, Victors’ smile was sour as he humoured Roman.

“Sure, boss. Whatever you say.”

“Take that stick out your ass, Victor. You look like I’m holding you here at fucking gunpoint.” Romans’ eyes narrowed and his mouth set into a slight line as he surveyed Victors’ uncomfortable position. “I pay over $2000 a month for this place. Relax.”

The white robe which he had been forced to wear as part of the days experience was as light as a feather and softer than most materials he had encountered; the only benefit to the fucking stupid thing was that it was both long-sleeved and ankle-length which easily hid away the majority of his scarring.

Victor Zsasz was by no means a man who experienced shame or embarrassment, things like that were better left to people who actually gave a fuck about other people, but he did not want the attention brought on to Roman.

Not when it was his monthly ‘treat’ day.

Victor was pulled from his musings by a soft voice to his left.

“Sir, we have a fantastic seaweed wrap which would be highly beneficial for your condition?”

One of the spa attendants, a young, blonde woman with a round face and obvious inability to read body language, was standing a few feet away.

“His condition?” Romans’ laugh was obnoxious, and it echoed around the muted room as Roman sat up and turned slightly to watch the oncoming show.

“The scarring,” gesturing to Victors’ body with a pleasant smile, as though not put off by the volumes of ropey tissue which could just been viewed in the areas which the robe did not cover, the spa attendant then clasped her hands again, “and I have to say that the results will be immediate. Even after one session.”

Roman coughed to disguise a laugh as he waited for Victor to response.

Moving quicker than either Roman or the attendant could anticipate, Victor grabbed her wrist roughly and a squeak emerged from the woman as she found herself pulled sharply into Victors’ personal space.

“Offer me that again, _sweetheart_ ,” Victors’ voice was low and threatening as he snarled at the woman, “and I’ll peel that beautiful face from your skull and use it as my own personal fucking face mask.”

Suitably frightened, the woman nodded frantically as she held his gaze and found absolutely nothing behind his eyes.

No humour.

No warmth.

No humanity.

“Now, fuck off.” He grinned, showcasing his metal teeth, as he dropped his grip on her and returned to his bench by Romans’ side.

He didn’t turn back to the woman but the sound of soft, hurried footsteps pattering across the floor followed by silence let him know that his instructions had been followed.

“Stupid bitch,” Roman laughed, amusement shining in his eyes, “I would let you have some fun but if we start killing the staff here then I’ll need to book in with that place in Metropolis and that’s a pain in the fucking ass.”

“Not even just one?” Finally alone in the small room, Victor pulled the robe from his body and dumped it in an unceremonious pile on the floor as he prepared to drop into the other mud bath which Roman had booked out. “I have my knives and I brought your toolkit. Just in case, boss.”

Not missing the hungry look which Roman sent his way as he displayed it all, Victor was certain that he could talk Roman into some violence before they left tomorrow. If not an attendant, then Victor was happy to go hunting in the local area and finding something fun to play with. One of the cleaning teams could take care of the mess before any alarms could be raised.

“Maybe,” Roman conceded with a thoughtful sigh, “then again, I did book out that room with the couples’ bathroom and I was going to spend the night fucking you against the marble.”

Perking up slightly as a flash of arousal speared him, Victor paused his descent into the mud bath to turn and give Roman a toothy smirk.

“Both would be good, boss, it’d really let you blow off some steam.”

“If you go right now and fetch me a mojito from the sports bar, I might blow more than steam, Victor.”

Roman sighed as he spoke, sinking deeper into his bath, and a smile turned up the corners of his lips as he heard Victor begin to move.


	5. Roman/Zsasz - In The Snow

“I f-f-fucking hate working with the snowman,” Roman stuttered through firmly clenched teeth as he sent a glare Victors’ way, “remind me to have you killed when we get out of h-here.”

His hands thrust in his pockets to keep them from visibly trembling, Victor sighed and kicked at the floor to disrupt the inches of snow which covered the area.

“I did say to bring your jacket.” Victor retorted, also unhappy with the cold they were forced to wait in until Freeze appeared. “The meet is due to start soon.”

“Watch your tongue, Mister Zsasz,” brushing a few stray snowflakes off the shoulder of his suit jacket, Roman refused to admit fault, “or I’ll have it attached to one of these frozen poles and ripped off.”

Sighing once again, Victors’ eyes flew to the nearby door as heavy footsteps approached and he straightened his posture in preparation. He glanced at Roman to see that he was matching his position, determined to show no weakness.

“Just so you know, boss,” Victor muttered lowly, “that was a shit threat.”


End file.
